


What Time Is It?

by springsnow



Category: Before Watchmen (Comics), Watchmen - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Flashbacks, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Period-Typical Homophobia, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 14:23:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17163605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springsnow/pseuds/springsnow
Summary: Four men, two relationships.





	What Time Is It?

**Author's Note:**

> Go read _Before Watchmen: Minutemen_ and tell me, to my face, that Hollis and Byron weren't an item. You can't. This was partly inspired by a remark I saw from a gay man born in the late 1960s who said that he's glad that more and more, gay teenagers can have relationships at high school, the same as their straight peers. The main body of the text is set in 1973, while the flashbacks (the bits in italics) are set in the late 1940s. I was picturing Movie!Dan and Movie!Adrian while I wrote this, but very much picturing Comic!Hollis and Comic!Byron (specifically, as they appeared in _Before Watchmen_ ) at the same time. Just imagine cartoonified Patrick Wilson and Matthew Goode for Dan and Adrian, I guess. Regardless, enjoy!

The sun is setting over the Atlantic Ocean, the bright red disc setting the water ablaze and streaking the sky with pink and blue. _God, but it’s beautiful out here_ , Hollis thinks as he strolls to the end of the little dock, hands deep in his pockets. He just wishes he were here for any reason other than this.

_It’s late by the time Hollis gets back. He closes the front door as gently as possible, so as not to disturb Byron; the lights are off, which means he’s already in bed. He climbs the stairs slowly, taking care to avoid the squeaky floorboard at the top, and opens the door to their bedroom. He stops for a moment to look at Byron; he only looks peaceful, truly peaceful, in sleep, Hollis thinks._

He reaches the end of the dock and sits down in the empty chair, next to the occupied one. The breeze tousles and ruffles Byron’s hair, but he barely acknowledges it. On the surface, Hollis acts like he doesn’t know why he keeps coming back, but he does. He just can’t bring himself to acknowledge it. What does that make him? Cowardly? Sensible? He doesn’t know. He’s not sure it even matters. Not anymore.

_Hollis undresses and climbs into bed next to Byron, shifting close to him and draping a protective arm over his skinny waist. Byron makes a soft noise and stirs a little. He turns over to meet Hollis’ solid weight, head tucked under Hollis’ chin, his hand on Hollis’ hip._

_“What time is it?” he murmurs. Hollis brushes a stray lock of hair from Byron’s forehead and kisses him there._

_“Late,” he replies, his voice a whisper. “Go back to sleep.”_

“Nice view, huh?” Hollis says. Byron looks at him, but says nothing in response. He’s better than he used to be, Hollis tries to tell himself. Perhaps this place really has been good for him. It’s what he tells himself when he lies awake at night in a cold bed, the space next to him empty—the space that should be filled by the man who, instead, is locked up hundreds of miles away from him. And on the days when Byron is willing to talk, Hollis still catches glimpses of the man he fell in love with over three decades ago.

But, deep down, Hollis knows Byron will never be the same again. So they sit and watch the sunset together, until it starts getting dark and cold, and Hollis takes Byron back to his room before the nurses complain, and he tries not to start thinking—yet again—about how, in some other world, this wouldn’t have happened, and everything would still, on some level, make sense.

A kinder world.

A _fairer_ world.

Unfortunately, when it came to the shared life of Hollis Mason and Byron Lewis, both of those particular elements were conspicuously absent.

==

“So, you and that Ozymandias kid,” Hollis says, trying to sound as casual as it’s possible for a human being to get—because Christ knows, the last thing he needs right now is Dan freaking out—“what’s going on there, huh?”

Dan’s head whips up, his eyes even larger than usual behind those huge glasses of his. The beer bottle slips out of his hand and shatters on the floor, foaming up and spraying the chair legs with errant drops of alcohol. “What?” he says, breathless and terrified. Hollis is quick to hold his hands up.

“I’m not judging, I’m not judging,” he says, trying to sound reassuring. “It’s not my place. I’m just…just curious.”

“Please don’t tell anyone,” Dan begs, tears shining in his eyes. Hollis leans forward and puts what he hopes is a comforting hand on Dan’s shoulder.

“I told you, kid. Not judging. And not gonna tell anyone, either. Let each man tend his own garden.” He ignores the pang in his chest when he says that. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I just wanna make sure he’s treating you right.”

Dan looks down and takes off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s been about a year,” he says eventually, quietly. “We…we were drinking together after a meeting, and things just…just kind of…”

“You live together?”

“Not yet. But Ade—Ozymandias, I mean—he wants me to move in with him.” Dan toys with his glasses. “He does have a nice place. I know we probably shouldn’t, but I mean—well, I keep thinking, _why not_?”

“Do it,” Hollis says firmly. Dan looks at him quizzically, but doesn’t try to argue. “Move in with him. Start a life together. And then one day, when you kids get tired of the vigilante schtick, retire somewhere nice and warm and take care of each other.”

Dan stares at Hollis, mouth open slightly, in amazed silence. He seems to be trying to work out if Hollis is serious, and eventually he realises yes—he is. He nods, dumbfounded, then sits up and clears his throat.

“Sorry about the beer,” he says.

“Don’t sweat it.”

“What time is it?” Dan asks. “I, uh, I said I’d meet Oz—Ade—I’d meet him at nine.”

Hollis checks his watch. “Just after eight,” he says.

“Ah, geez, I’d better get going.” Dan stands up, and so does Hollis, and after a brief pause, Dan hugs him. It doesn’t last very long, but Hollis can feel some of Dan’s worry and tension pouring out, and it makes him feel a little better, too. Dan says his goodbyes, promises to swing by again next week, and hurries out into the cold rain.

Hollis stands in the silence, fingernails drumming absentmindedly against the almost-empty bottle. Should he have told Dan about him and Byron? No. No, the kid’s got enough on his plate as is. He doesn’t need Hollis’ screw-ups weighing down on him too.

This ‘Ade’ kid, Hollis barely knows him—he met him once, all body armour and coiffed blond hair—but he trusts Dan’s judgment, and if he says he loves Ade, then he must be worth something. And goddamnit, if Hollis and Byron couldn’t have that, then Hollis might as well make sure this generation gets a chance at it.

He finishes his beer and tosses the bottle in the trash before heading upstairs to an empty bed, while thirty years ago, a cop who moonlights as a man who fights crime while dressed as an owl climbs a different, older set of stairs to share his bed with a jittery, neurotic genius who has learned how to fly.


End file.
